


christmas starlight, see me on my way (guide me home)

by thylionheart



Series: if my heart was a house, you'd be home [10]
Category: A Wrinkle in Time (2018), Kairos (O'Keefe) Series - Madeleine L'Engle
Genre: Child Neglect, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Season, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Neglect, Kissing, Middle School, Post-Movie, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 21:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16962030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thylionheart/pseuds/thylionheart
Summary: Calvin spends Christmas with the Murry family.*not a standalone*





	christmas starlight, see me on my way (guide me home)

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this one isn't very long, but there's a reason for that.  
> The next fic, which is still a WIP, is currently...  
> ...nearly 20k.  
> Yep. Almost 20,000 words long. It's a bit of a doozy.  
> So have some nice Christmas fluff before the angst returns :)
> 
> The title is from Christmas Star by John Williams.

“Pollux...hour seven...minute forty-five...and...second nineteen-point-thirty-six. Perfect.”

The old telescope squeaked as Meg pulled away from it to write down the star’s coordinates in her journal. It was an unusually clear December night, especially considering that the whole of LA sparkled with Christmas lights. Gemini glittered in the midnight sky, the constellation of twins, of Castor and Pollux, the Dioscuri. Meg knew she should be in bed, but she had already spent three hours trying and failing to fall asleep. The anticipation of Christmas morning kept her mind wide awake; she hadn’t felt this excited for Christmas in four years.

She finished recording Pollux’s right ascension and declination, then returned to the telescope. “Alright, Castor A, your turn. Where’d you go?” 

Her phone, which was charging on her nightstand, chirped with Calvin’s text tone. After scribbling down the last coordinates, she fumbled for her cell and read his message.

_You up?_

_yeah_ , replied Meg.

_I made cocoa.. come downstairs?_

_sure, everything ok?_

_Yeah, just wanna talk_

Nerves filled Meg’s stomach with butterflies. She hated all variations of that phrase—“I want to talk” or “We need to talk”. Teachers often told her they wanted to talk to her after class, either about her inattentiveness or her lack of participation, or, in certain classes, her abysmal grades.

But this, Meg told herself, was Calvin. Her Calvin. He wouldn’t say such a touchy phrase to her if something was wrong; he’d tell her straight out. She knew that. She trusted that.

She found Calvin sitting on the sofa in the living room. That was a bit odd; whenever they had a late night rendezvous—not _that_ kind—they met in the kitchen to sip hot cocoa, talk, and, admittedly, kiss a bit. A nervous smile curled the corners of Calvin’s mouth and he kept ducking his head to hide it. His knee was bouncing restlessly and his eyes kept flitting from Meg to the floor and back again. The butterflies in Meg’s stomach fluttered again, but now with excitement rather than anxiety. When he handed her a mug she noticed that his hands were shaking.

Meg squinted at him and sipped her cocoa. “What’s going on?”

A breathy laugh widened Calvin’s smile. He drummed his fingers against his knee. “I, um…I know tomorrow’s Christmas, but I couldn’t wait until morning. Plus, I think I’d die of embarrassment if I gave this to you in front of your parents.”

“Gave me what?”

Calvin took a deep breath, reached into the pocket of his joggers, and produced a white-wrapped box tied with a red ribbon. The box was small, the kind normally used for jewelry.

Meg’s heart pattered, and she set down her mug. “Wait.” She stood and crossed the room to the Christmas tree. Stooping, she dug through the stacks of presents, looking for one in particular. It was about the same size as Calvin’s gift, with red and green striped paper and his name scrawled across the top. Once she found it, she returned to Calvin and handed it to him.

“Here. Let’s open them at the same time.”

Calvin nodded, excitement shining across his face. Slowly the teens took the paper off their respective gifts; Meg tore it off haphazardly, while Calvin neatly opened the folds. Neither moved to open the boxes. They kept peeking up at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Meg grew impatient and, taking a deep breath, opened her present.

A delighted gasp slipped out of her mouth. Inside the box was a silver bracelet. Twisted cords hung from either end of the thin, curved band, and a crescent moon and three tiny stars were etched into the metal. Her gasp was followed quickly by a delirious giggle that she tried to muffle with her hand.

Bewilderment clouded Calvin’s face at her odd reaction. Meg waved her hand and squeaked, “I’m sorry, it’s not—open yours, open yours!” 

Her eagerness seemed to ease some of Calvin’s confusion. Quickly he opened the present and peeled back the thin layers of blue tissue paper to reveal a braided leather bracelet. All trace of anxiety left his eyes and was replaced by glee. He laughed and took the bracelet out of the box to admire it. A glint of gold caught the light. Hanging from the leather was a charm in the shape of a starfish. His eyes widened and his lips formed an “o”.

“Meg…this is perfect.”

“So is yours! This, I mean.” She held up her gift. “Where did you get it?”

“I, uh, custom ordered it online.”

“You’re kidding. That’s what I did!”

“Great minds think alike,” said both in unison; they paused, stared at each other, and proceeded to break down into a fit of giggles.

After their laughter died down, Meg took the leather bracelet from Calvin’s hands and tied it around his left wrist, then grabbed the one he had given her and started to hand it to him so he could do the same for her.

“Wait.” Calvin held up his hand, his voice suddenly soft. “Turn it over.”

Meg did so. A phrase was engraved on the back:

_I love you to the moon and back and to all the stars above._

Meg’s breath hitched. She looked up and saw Calvin watching her with a shy smile.

“Merry Christmas, my Meg.”

Setting the bracelet aside, Meg cupped Calvin’s face and kissed him. He grinned against her mouth.

“I guess this means you like it?”

“I _love_ it.”

“I love mine, too.”

Calvin pulled away to tie her bracelet around her wrist, as she had done for him. The smile on Meg’s face faded a bit as she looked at it.

Her boyfriend noticed. “What is it?”

“Your gift was so thoughtful, and…you really went the extra mile with that engraving on the back. I just...I wish I had done the same.”

“Hey, look at me.”

Meg reluctantly lifted her eyes to meet his.

“This,” Calvin fingered the gold starfish, “is your extra mile. I’m serious. In past years, my other friends have almost exclusively gotten me basketball stuff. Basketball themed mugs, basketball T-shirts, heck, even Lakers tickets once. I love my friends and I’d never pass up the Lakers, but...I’m more than just basketball, y’know? A lot of the time, it feels like that’s all anyone sees me as, or cares to see me as. Calvin O’Keefe, the power forward. But not with you.”

He tugged on her braid and gazed at her with soft, crinkling eyes. “You see me for who I am. And I feel like I’m not only free to be myself with you, but excited and happy to be myself. To be passionate about things like marine biology and medicine, instead of just the things people expect me to be passionate about. And I love you for it.”

Oh, Meg didn’t think she’d ever get used to him saying that. Her heart flew up into her throat and pounded a mile a minute. Calvin’s hand was still holding her braid; after a moment, he gingerly moved it to cradle her neck.

“I love you, Meg Murry,” he whispered.

She absolutely, ridiculously melted at his words. Reaching forward, she placed her own hands on his chest and whispered back, “And I love you, Calvin O’Keefe.”

His heartbeat quickened beneath her fingertips, and a tender smile curved his lips. He leaned in, and Meg closed her eyes. His nose bumped hers, then trailed lightly across her cheek. His breath tickled her chin and the bottom corner of her mouth. She sighed.

“I bet we have five minutes before Charles Wallace comes downstairs,” murmured Calvin, his lips meeting her jaw.

“Mm, three.”

“Pessimist.”

“I prefer realist.”

Calvin let out a quiet chuckle, more like a huff of air than a laugh. Meg teased a hand through his hair before tilting her chin to find his mouth and meld it with hers. Arms wrapped around her waist and held her firmly. Their kisses were eager and lingering and deep, causing Meg’s mind to buzz gleefully and her heart to tremble within her chest.

Moments like this, with Calvin, in his embrace, Meg wished she could savor forever.

Three and a half minutes later, both heard a door open and close upstairs. Meg giggled.

“There’s no way that was five minutes.” She drew back with a smug smirk. “I win.”

“Fair and square,” Calvin mumbled breathlessly, his eyes shining brightly and a smile curving his pink lips. He risked one more earnest kiss before grabbing their mugs of lukewarm cocoa and leaving for the kitchen. As he passed by the stairs he smiled up at the landing. “Hey, sport. Want some cocoa?”

Charles Wallace’s voice floated down the stairs. “Always. Thanks, Calvin.”

Meg grabbed a nearby blanket. She draped it across herself and snuggled into a corner of the couch as her little brother floated into the living room.

“Hi, Biscuits.”

“Evening,” Charles Wallace smiled. Reaching out to squeeze Meg’s hand, he walked past her and over to the bookcase standing between the Christmas tree and the fireplace. He plucked a black leather book from the shelf and took it over to where his sister was sitting. As he settled next to her, he eyed the gift boxes and wrapping paper.

“You guys do realize that Christmas is _tomorrow_ , right?”

Meg glanced at the grandfather clock standing proud against the wall. “It’s past midnight. Technically, it is Christmas.”

“Touché. So, what’d he get you?”

She held up her hand.

“Ooh, exquisite. Didn’t you also get him a bracelet?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, you know what they say about great minds.”

Meg let out a loud snort.

When Calvin returned with their cocoa—somehow managing to hold all three mugs without requiring assistance or a second trip—Charles Wallace held up the book he’d retrieved from the shelf. It was a Bible.

“Calvin, would you mind reading the Nativity to me?

Meg stretched her legs over Calvin’s lap and let Charles Wallace sit in hers, beneath the knit blanket. “Y’know, we’re gonna hear it tomorrow at church.” It was Murry family tradition to put on their Sunday best and spend Christmas evening singing carols and hymns at their neighborhood church.

“I know, but I want to hear it all now, without the sermon breaking the flow. I find it comforting.”

Calvin started thumbing through the thin pages. “Alright. Um, it’s in Matthew, right?”

“And Luke. I’d like you to read both, if you please.”

Calvin obliged. They all sipped their cocoa as he read aloud. It pleased Meg that he had gotten over his strep throat and regained his voice within the past few days. She loved how effortlessly he read, how he never faltered, how his voice rang out confidently and pleasantly. And she loved that it meant she wouldn’t have to read herself.

When Calvin reached the part about the Magi, Charles Wallace interrupted him.

“Do you think the star they followed was like the Mrs W’s? I mean, Mrs Whatsit used to be a star. What if the Star of Bethlehem was a sentient being like our Mrs?”

Meg rubbed her brother’s head and hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. There really isn’t any way we could know. Not now, at least. Maybe someday.”

“The star acted as a guide for the wise men,” said Calvin, “and the Mrs called themselves guides as well. I think it’s entirely possible.”

Smiling, Charles Wallace said, “It’s a humbling thought, isn’t it? To think that we’re not the only ones. Who else have the Mrs—or someone like the Mrs—guided? Who else has been touched by an angel?”

Calvin traced idle circles on Meg’s knee. “Do you...do you think we’ll ever see them again?”

Neither Meg nor Charles Wallace replied. For a minute, all was quiet. Then, Calvin cleared his throat and picked up where he’d left off.

“‘They entered the house and saw the child with his mother, Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasure chests and gave him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.’”

His voice caught on the word _gifts_. Meg adjusted her glasses on her nose. 

“A guiding star,” she began quietly, “three gifts, three wise men—”

“It doesn’t say how many Magi,” corrected Charles Wallace, “only how many gifts.”

“You get my point.”

A few memories tiptoed into the forefront of Meg’s mind; memories of the Mrs, of their voices and smiles and otherworldly beauty. She felt, for a moment, a sense of peace and love, and when she looked at her boys she saw that their faces had relaxed and their mouths had twitched into semblances of smiles. Calvin’s eyes met hers, and she knew in that moment that somehow, someway, he’d felt what she’d felt.

Calvin flipped past Mark and into Luke, and read about the manger and the shepherds and the host of angels in the sky. Meg wondered if they had looked anything like the balls of glorious light she’d seen when she’d weakened the IT. By the time Calvin finished the chapter, Charles Wallace had fallen asleep in the crook of his sister’s arm. 

Meg took the Bible, and Calvin took Charles Wallace. He gathered the young boy in his arms as she placed the Bible back on the bookshelf. They met by the piano, and Meg kissed her brother’s forehead and Calvin’s cheek before telling him not to worry about their mugs; she’d wash them before going to bed.

So ended their Christmas Eve.

 

* * *

 

Never in his life had Calvin woken up to such a joyful Christmas morning. The first thing he saw when his eyes blinked open was Charles Wallace’s shining face hovering over his own.

“Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

Calvin made a noise that might’ve been a yawn or a laugh. “What time is it?”

The bed shook and sank beneath a new weight. Meg’s face popped into view, partially masqueraded by her curtain of curls. “It’s time for you to get up, sleepyhead.”

Charles Wallace groaned when Calvin drowsily cupped Meg’s face and pulled her down into a kiss. “Guys, seriously? Hurry up, we have presents to open! And Mommy made cinnamon rolls.”

That last part snapped Calvin awake. He clambered out of bed and let Charles Wallace climb onto his back for a piggyback ride. Meg rolled her eyes with a smile.

The smell of cinnamon and brown sugar wafted through the downstairs. Dr. Alex greeted the kids as they entered the kitchen, hot drinks in his hands and a floppy red Santa hat on his head. Though Meg whined that he looked silly, Calvin could tell that she was thoroughly delighted. It had been four long years since Meg’s last Christmas with her father, and now she couldn’t stop smiling.

After a hearty breakfast of cinnamon rolls and scrambled eggs, the family gathered in the living room. Fortinbras laid under the piano and happily chewed on his new rawhide bone. 

Growing up, Calvin’s family had opened their presents in an unenthusiastic, ordered manner. One present at a time, oldest to youngest, smallest present to the largest. The Murrys’ method, however, could only be described as organized chaos. Charles Wallace carefully plucked gifts out of his stocking while Meg dumped hers out on the floor, scattering candy, chapstick, enamel pins, and patterned socks. Fearful of damaging any gifts, Calvin ascribed to Charles Wallace’s method rather than his girlfriend's.

By the time he finished, Meg had already torn into a few of her wrapped presents: math activity books, a Katherine Johnson shirt, and eyepieces for her telescope. Charles Wallace received colored pencils, a glow-in-the-dark constellation map, and a children’s dictionary, among other things. For a couple minutes, Calvin simply watched them smile and laugh and flip through their new books. Then, Charles Wallace handed Calvin a flat, rectangular present.

“Here, open this one first! It’s from me and Mommy.”

Calvin gingerly unwrapped the present, revealing a picture frame that the young boy and his mother had decorated with seashells. Already set behind the glass was a picture of Calvin, Meg, and Charles Wallace that Dr. Kate had taken. A smile overtook Calvin’s face and he mussed Charles Wallace’s hair.

“It’s wonderful! I love it, sport. Thank you.”

Meg shoved more gifts into his hands: a green knit sweater from Dr. Kate, several books on medicine and marine biology from Dr. Alex, and a grey, white, and blue striped duvet set for his guest bedroom from both. If either parent noticed Calvin and Meg’s new bracelets, they didn’t say anything.

Wrapping and tissue paper covered the floor. Underneath the tree was bare but for a handful of pine needles. Rosie had tiptoed downstairs and was now playing inside an empty box, her golden eyes wide and white-tipped tail twitching wildly. The kids were admiring each other’s presents when Dr. Alex left the room and came back with a small box.

“Calvin,” he said, “Kate and I have one last thing to give you.”

He handed the box to the boy and sat next to his wife on the messy couch.

Calvin took off the lid of the box. Inside, tucked amongst red tissue paper, was a grey lanyard with the NASA logo printed in parallel lines down the length of the fabric strap. The boy smiled wide; he carried his house key on a plain ring and often worried about misplacing it, so this gift was perfect. But then, as he pulled it out of the box, a flash of silver caught his eye. At the end of the lanyard hung a single key.

His mouth fell open and he looked up at the Drs. Murry, eyes practically bulging out of his head. “Is…is this—?”

“That,” began Dr. Alex in a low, gentle voice, “is a key to our home.”

“You know that you are always, always welcome here,” his wife continued, “and we decided that it was past due time for you to have your own key. We want this house to feel like home for you, Calvin. We want you to feel like a part of our family. Because to us, you are.”

No words could’ve aptly conveyed the sheer amount of emotion that swelled within Calvin at that moment, and so in lieu of words flowed tears. He didn’t want to cry during such a happy occasion, but he couldn’t help but break down sobbing. These tears were tears of joy, yet also of sadness. His own house, the O’Keefe house, sat cold and empty less than half a mile away. Calvin’s mother had chosen to spend Christmas working overtime, and he didn’t know where his father was. But now, in his hands, he held the literal key to his new home—his _real_ home.

Charles Wallace took hold of his hand and squeezed hard. Meg’s arms curled around his middle, her glasses pressing against his neck. Seconds later, her parents joined in, wrapping all three kids into a massive group hug.

Dr. Alex placed a fatherly kiss to the top of Calvin's head. “Merry Christmas, son.”

 

* * *

 

Three glorious miracles had turned Meg Murry’s world completely upside down. Within the previous four years, nothing had happened. Nothing but loneliness and despair. But within the last four months, everything had happened. Everything, and so much more.

Twelve months ago, if someone had told Meg that by the end of the year her father would return, her self-loathing would dim, she’d travel throughout time and space, and she and Calvin O’Keefe—the most popular, handsome boy in her class—would start falling in love, she would have blown up at them for teasing her so cruelly.

And yet, here she was.

Three glorious miracles had turned Calvin O’Keefe’s world completely rightside up. Within the previous four years, many things had happened. He’d made friends, grown in popularity—yet also suffered under his parents’ abuse and neglect. But within the last four months, infinitely more had happened. Infinity, and so much more.

Twelve months ago, if someone had told Calvin that within the span of the year his father would leave, he’d meet guardian angels who’d guide him across the universe, and he and Meg Murry—the withdrawn, temperamental class outcast—would start falling in love, he would’ve prayed that they were telling the truth.

And now, here he was.

Meg Murry’s and Calvin O’Keefe’s old lives ended with the old year, and their new life began with a midnight kiss under the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥︎


End file.
